


Seven For A Secret That'll Probably Go Viral

by Siria



Category: Selfie (TV)
Genre: Community: picfor1000, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-06
Updated: 2015-01-06
Packaged: 2018-03-06 07:39:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3126392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siria/pseuds/Siria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliza's KinderKare Karaoke comeback.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven For A Secret That'll Probably Go Viral

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2015 [A Picture is Worth 1000 Words](http://picfor1000.livejournal.com/) challenge, to [this prompt](https://www.flickr.com/photos/janeybranigan_electra/11097399673/in/photostream/lightbox/). Thanks to Trinityofone for betaing!

"It'll be my KinderKare Karaoke comeback," Eliza said, "like how Christina used The Voice to make herself relevant again? Only I'll be making a comeback from Freddy dumping me at the company softball game and not from oversinging and making tragic bleach decisions. Charmonique and I will be totes retro, 'Like a Virgin' circa Britney and Madonna at the VMAs. I've already got the hot-pants, Charmonique's got the elbow gloves, maybe the giant cake would be a little hard to source at short notice but if I bet if we twerk instead no one will notice?"

"All of this is both confusing and horrifying," Henry said, trying his best to repress all the mental images that had conjured up for him, "and so not the kind of thing you should be broadcasting at full volume when standing in line in Starbucks at eight in the morning."

Eliza tilted her head to one side. "I'm not broadcasting, I'm tweeting. Though, wait, you think I should, like, put together a greatest hits for Vine? I bet I could convince Charmonique to go full-on Britonna making out on camera if she thought it would make Bryn jelly."

After that, Henry had expected to find Eliza front row centre by the time he finally arrived, eagerly awaiting her turn to impress her co-workers with her performative bisexuality. Instead, Charmonique pointed him to the back of the club, where a small patio served as a smoking area. 

So early in the evening, the space was empty except for Eliza. She was perched on top of a table in the corner, eyes narrowed in focus as she tapped away at her phone. 

"While I'm aware that popular culture isn't what anyone could call my forte," Henry said, "I'm pretty sure that this is not the right Britney costume." He gestured at the blue and green outfit Eliza was wearing, upgraded to that dignity from being merely a bikini only by virtue of the bits of gauze attached to the hips. A plush toy snake was slung over her shoulders.

Eliza rolled her eyes without looking up at him. "Pfft, what am I, a historian? It's about the _atmosphere_ , Henry. It's not like I'm going to be on PBS."

"Indeed," Henry agreed, trying valiantly to keep his gaze fixed above Eliza's shoulders. He was sure that Gwen Ifill never had to put up with trials like this in the workplace. "But is… everything okay? I thought you said, and I quote, you were going to live-tweet this beeyotch. End quote."

"Well, I was," Eliza said, leaning in conspiratorially. "But then Saperstein told me that he's decided to send me to Europe to help prep for the merger! I leave in, like, two weeks so I've got to start prepping now. Time and Instagram wait for no one, Henry."

"You're what?" Henry blurted out. That assignment was going to mean three months in London, minimum. Over the past year, he'd worked diligently on not pining over Eliza, but the prospect of three whole months without her—three months where they wouldn't have lunch together; three months where he wouldn't walk into his office to find Eliza napping or constructing necklaces out of his stash of colour-coded paperclips because she'd seen that DIY jewellery was trending on Pinterest—made something roil, heavy and acidic, in the pit of his stomach. 

Eliza seemed to misunderstand him. She held out her phone and swiped through a series of photos—all black and white and moody, crumbling architecture and rain-swept vistas. 

Henry squinted at the screen. "Is that a magpie on a gravestone?"

"Hashtag enigma, Henry," Eliza said, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. "Hashtag YOLO."

"You should know that I got an A in Intro to Logic my sophomore year of undergrad," Henry said, "but I'm not seeing how any of this connects."

"So Europe is all history and culture and bitches with excellent winged eyeliner game," Eliza said. "Princess Kate Middleton excepted, because the shiny locks are covetable but that '80s eyeliner? Traj."

"What's wrong with the '80s?" Henry said, affronted, making sure that the sleeves of his oversized blazer were still impeccably cuffed. His rendition of 'Time After Time' deserved period-appropriate attire. "Cyndi Lauper is a national treasure and should be appreciated as such."

"Uh huh," Eliza said. "Anyway, posting pictures of old stuff in black-and-white? Instant advance buzz of impending sophistication."

"So that people in London will be ready for you to arrive," Henry said. "I see."

"Well…" Eliza said slowly. "Ready for us."

Henry blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Saperstein wants to send both of us, so I thought, you know…" Eliza shrugged and looked away over the low wall that ringed the patio, as if fascinated by the passing traffic. She was aiming for nonchalant but Henry could see from the set of her shoulders that she was nervous. "Maybe if you agree to come with, I wouldn't just be posting selfies when I get there."

"Is this—" Henry said, at the same time that Eliza blurted out, "I'm still in love with you."

"Huh," Henry managed after a long moment. That acidic feeling in his stomach started to leach away, slowly being replaced by something wonderful.

"Like, if you're still, you know, whatever, it's cool—"

"Eliza."

"—I can totes take a classic selfie with the Eiffel Tower—"

"Eliza," Henry said, distantly aware that he was smiling, smiling so hard that his face hurt with it. He was ready this time. "The Eiffel Tower's in Paris, and I love you, too."

"Ugh," Eliza said, and then she was in his arms, warm and laughing. Her lipgloss was tacky against his mouth and kissing someone who had a toy snake wrapped around their shoulders should probably have been somewhat disturbing, but Henry didn't give a damn. "Can we, like, ignore the small details here?"

"It's 1,063 feet of wrought iron, it's hardly small—" But then Eliza kissed him again, and Henry had better things to focus on.


End file.
